Trade Secrets
by The Third Marauder
Summary: One doesn't become a great conman in a day. Advice must come from somewhere, and the circle of world-class conmen isn't that large. What happens when Neal meets the legends who pulled the Bellagio job? Pre-series. Involves characters from Ocean's 11


**Disclaimer: Unless I manage to pull a long con on USA or Steven Soderbergh, none of the characters in this story belong to me.**

* * *

"Hey, Rus'. Mind relaxing a bit?" Danny's voice was at his ear. "Tess is starting to notice."

It wasn't like Rusty was planning to steal anything. Not at _Tess'_ art exhibit, anyway. But being in an art museum without automatically casing it for marks, cameras, points of entrance and exit... that was like expecting the conman to not breath.

"I'm sorry," and he meant it.

"I know," his dark haired partner said sympathetically. "I feel it, too."

Rusty didn't have to ask Danny what he was talking about. They both knew that itch well, that anticipatory tingle when they identified a target, the adrenaline rush as they automatically started planning the caper.

"It's just," The blond said unhappily, "I haven't been able to get my mind off that lovely Titian—"

"—the one in that corner—"

"—next to the fire escape, yeah."

They both took a moment to admire the painting in question, which is when Rusty noticed it. He nudged his partner.

"Danny, do you see—"

"—dark hair, blue eyes—"

Rust nodded. "You think he's—"

"—oh, without a doubt."

There was silence for a moment as they both pondered how to handle the situation. Then Rusty asked reluctantly.

"Should we—"

"—we're going to have to—"

"—not here, though—"

"—no, we wouldn't want to—"

"—right, Tess has never liked scenes."

Another pause as they both watched the person in question interact with one of the patrons.

"You know," Rusty said casually, "he reminds me of a younger you."

Danny swiftly turned to his partner.

Rusty had his hands up to show no offense. "I'm just saying. He certainly has your smile and charm. Watch him."

Danny did. And Danny was impressed. "All right, he has talent."

"Did you see that lift?"

"Linus couldn't have done it more smoothly," The dark haired conman admitted. "Know who he is?"

"Never seen him before."

"Can you—"

"—already sent a picture to Livingston. We'll have an ID—"

Rusty's phone rang. The blond grinned, and flipped it open. "Hey, Livingston. You get the—"

"Great. Know who he is?"

Suddenly, Rusty was looking more than a little fascinated. "Really? You sure?"

Angry words from Livingston's end, and the handsome hotel owner was apologizing, "Right, sorry, stupid question. Thanks, Livingston."

The phone clicked shut, and Rusty's blue eyes were gleaming when he turned to his partner. "You're not going to believe it."

* * *

It was late when Neal returned from the art gallery, but he would be lying if he said he felt at all tired. There was something about putting a caper into action, even if was only the first few steps, that provided a surge of vitality more potent than any cup of coffee ever might.

He dropped the key card on the top of the dresser, which is when he noticed the dark figure sitting on his bed. Immediately, he posed to run, but the figure spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Neal." The tone was calm, amused, and superior. And Neal recognized it immediately, because it was the voice he took when speaking to law enforcement agents, when he knew he had the upper hand.

Which gave him a little confidence. It was easier to react when he knew what he was dealing with. "I think you have me mixed up with someone else," he said smoothly, and then switched on the lights. He recognized the man immediately. Tall and good looking, he had been the escort of the curator of the exhibit Neal had been casing.

Neal ignored the twinge of fear in the back of his head, and continued to play his part. He stuck a hand out, "George Devore."

The man took it. "I know. We found your passport. Almost convinced me. It's an excellent forgery."

As much as Neal should have immediately denied the accusation, his mind got caught on one word. "We?"

"Yeah," a voice called from the bathroom. "Sorry. I meant to greet you, but it took me a bit longer than I expected to find this."

A blond walked out, and his flashy suit did nothing do hide that he was perhaps one of most handsome men Neal had ever seen. In his right hand was Neal's forged Titian.

The dark haired man gave a low whistle when he saw the painting. "Oh, this is good."

"Great," the blond corrected.

"World-class, really."

"Did you paint this yourself?"

Neal couldn't help but be a little confused with how this was playing out. But, he knew that he had no desire to see how it ended. He inched backward toward the door, but was stopped by a loud sigh from the curator's escort.

"I told you, you don't want to do that."

"It'll just make things more difficult than they have to be," the blond explained.

"Listen," Neal said, and he knew the game was up. "I don't know what you two want, but I'm not really one for violent confrontations."

"Oh, we know," the blond grinned.

"Neal Caffrey doesn't have a reputation as a gun person."

"Luckily for you, neither do we."

"As for what we want," the dark haired one said, and he sounded completely sincere, "we just wanted to talk."

"That's nice," Neal said dryly, "but I was always taught to not talk to strangers."

The two looked at each other from their seats on his bed, and then turned to him in unison.

"Well, that's easily fixed."

"You could have just asked."

The blond extended his hand, "Rusty Ryan."

And the name was a punch to the gut, because if the blond was Rusty Ryan, that meant the man to his right was:

"Daniel Ocean."

Neal sank into a chair.

Rusty looked to his partner. "You think that was—"

"—a little too much a little too fast—"

"—I'll get the wine."

A glass later, and Neal was finally coming to his senses. He was sitting with two of the most legendary grifters to have hit the world in years. The conmen who _allegedly _pulled the Bellagio job, were discovered by Terry Benedict, and lived to tell the tail. The leaders of the team that, if rumor was to be believed, managed to con the Night Fox, the prodigy of LeMarc.

"So," he said finally, "how'd you two recognize me?"

Danny laughed, "Listen, kid, you can't pull a job like the Copenhagen one without getting put on the radar. That music box was a difficult take."

Neal's smile was a little too tight, but it seemed to fool them, because Rusty was continuing, "And following that up with the Smithsonian caper? Replacing a Fiorentino with aluminum and chocolate? Spunky."

"Which brings about the question," Danny leaned forward, "Who's the girl?"

Neal was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Please," the dark haired conman was wearing a smirk, "you don't pull brazen cons like that unless you're trying to catch someone's attention. So, who is she?"

"Or he," Rusty added.

"Right. No assumptions."

Neal couldn't hide the smile. Their legend was apparently well deserved. The best conmen were the ones that understood their marks, and Danny and Rusty definitely had an excellent understanding of human nature.

"Her name's Kate."

Rusty asked kindly, "She leave you?"

Neal froze again, and Danny smiled self-deprecatingly. "We're not judging you."

"He _can't_ judge you," Rusty corrected. "The Bellagio job only came about because this idiot wanted his wife back."

"And I suppose the Toulour scheme had nothing to do with Isabel."

Rusty shrugged. "Not originally. I merely took advantage of the situation—"

Danny rolled his eyes. "The point is," he interrupted, "you're hardly the first person to go wild over a girl, and I promise you, you won't be the last."

"Just be careful. Making the girl the goal is how you get caught. Sooner or later, the Feds are going to use her to get to you."

Neal looked ready to argue, but Danny intercepted him. "We're not saying you shouldn't do it."

Rusty looked smug, "Again, he _can't_ tell you not to do it."

Danny shot his partner a glare, but admitted, "He's right. If she's the one, do whatever it takes. Just be warned… the suits aren't as stupid as we like to think, and they'll figure it out eventually."

"Oh, while we're on the topic of warning," Rusty looked regretful as he took another sip of his wine, "we're going to have to kindly ask you to step away from this heist."

"It's nothing personal," Danny insisted.

"Well, it's a little personal," Rusty amended, "but—"

"—No, of course." Neal said sincerely. "You've obviously been planning this heist longer than I have. Ingratiating yourself with the curator—that _is_ a long con. There are other nice takes from the exhibit that I could go for."

The two suddenly looked embarrassed.

"That's not exactly what we meant," Rusty said.

"Tess is my wife," Danny explained. "And we really don't appreciate it when things at her work are stolen."

"Oh. _Oh_." Neal understood. "So this wasn't a—"

"Unfortunately not."

Danny leveled another glare at his partner for the melancholic tone.

"Oh, come on, Danny, even you have to admit that the Titian was giftwrapped. That kind of placement is just begging for a theft."

Danny was shaking his head.

Rusty winked at the sign of exasperation. "Anyway, as an apology for ruining all this hard work—"

"That's really not necessary," Neal waved it off.

"We saw your plans, kid. They were good. You would have pulled it off."

"So, I'll come up with another one."

Rusty grinned. "Don't take it, if you don't want it. But we have a reputation for fairness to keep up." He handed Neal a card with two phone numbers. "Top one belongs to a friend. Linus Caldwell. He's planning a job and could use a good forger. Give him a call and tell him we recommend you."

"And just a heads up," Danny's eyes were twinkling, "Linus is staying with his parents, right now. Bobby and Molly are great people, but they're also Feds, so I would recommend not antagonizing them."

"Don't worry," Rusty reassured, "they only go after the crooked grifters. They'll love you."

Neal nodded, a little overwhelmed. Linus Caldwell was another one of those names that held not inconsiderable weight in their professional circle. "And the second number?"

Rusty's smile was mischievous, "That one's mine. In case you ever need a good fixer."

Danny stood up, "We had better get going."

"What, Tess put you under a curfew, Cinderella?"

"Really? Disney?"

Neal couldn't help himself, "If the shoe fits…"

And the two were laughing as they slipped on their coats. Then, Danny paused. "There's a white municipal van around the block—"

"It's fine. I noticed it coming in." Neal couldn't help but be a little cocky. "Looks like an uncomfortable way to spend the night."

"It is."

"They are."

"Cramped."

"Hot."

"Don't forget the smell," Rusty pointed out.

"Not in this lifetime."

"Point is—"

"Point is," Danny agreed. "If you really want to capitalize on your reputation—"

"—the sophisticated and hyper-intelligent, yet provoking and audacious con artist that you are—"

"—it might not be completely amiss to send them a gift."

"A friendly calling card, per say."

"Let them know that I know they are watching?" Neal's smile widened, and his mind was racing.

"Something like that," Rusty said carelessly.

"Think they'd be annoyed?"

"I think it would catch their attention," Danny replied, extending a hand. "Have a good night, Neal. I'm glad we met."

Neal shook each of their hands, and then they were out the door. But he didn't wait to see them disappear down the hallway; he was too busy calling room service for their best bottles of champagne.

_Fin_

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**White Collar and Ocean's 11 are my two favorite crime caper stories. I always wondered what would happen if Neal ran into Rusty and Danny. Remembering how excited Neal is in the series to meet some of his idols, I can imagine he would be almost shocked to run into the leader's of Ocean's 11.**

**That said, it is important to recognize that when Danny and Rusty had already pulled the Bellagio Job before Neal had even made it to New York, so, as much as Neal is one of the greatest conmen in the world, there are still going to be experience level differences between the characters at this juncture. I just liked the thought that Danny/Rusty might have tried to give some advice, as an experienced grifter to a newbie. I also liked the idea that the champagne to the surveillance van might have originally come from Danny or Rusty-it just seems like something they would do.**

**I also thought there were too many parallels between Danny chasing after Tess and Neal chasing after Kate to ignore. So I hope that came across well.**

******Mostly, I hope that this provided you all with a laugh. And a fun pre-series Neal moment.**

******Please Review!**

******The Third Marauder**


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